Eyes are sober, this is the plan 
I'm sitting in a car heading Neverland 
fancy man, a fancy man 
He's pointing with the fingers that are left on his hand 

Eyes are hazel, but far too cold 
Looking out for love 
But none of us can 
Where's the monkey that I've been told of 
I'm staring at the money that burns in my hand 
I'm dancing for dollars 
And for a fancy man 
 [bad word] right over, I'll knock on your shoulder 
This is a story and this is what I've planned 
An angry man, an angry man 
Nothing is more fatal than an angry man 

Vulnerable heights 
Feed the hand that bites me 
Following the steam into another room 
Standing in the corner 
Is this my home 
Showing us love that none of us can 
I'm singing for money 
That burns in my hand 

Tell me 
Will I make it home tonight 

I'm doing it for dollars and for a fancy man 
I've got a lot of money that burns in my hand